


should we name it?

by heavingfuckery (immortalflowers)



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Idols, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, But also, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Implied jumil/jujae, Implied/Referenced Handjobs, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Some Plot, if this reads as a love letter to sunwoo from the author no it doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalflowers/pseuds/heavingfuckery
Summary: They sit on a dangerous precipice, their legs kicking in the air, but neither are looking down; the ground is as far away from them as the possibility of the fall. Instead, they are looking at each other, leaning in.The idea beckons to Haknyeon once again and, for the first time in forever, Haknyeon is led to think with his fickle heart, he lets the emotions override everything his common sense is telling him is wrong.or: They start something they shouldn't, but it works out in the end.
Relationships: Ju Haknyeon/Kim Sunwoo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 102





	should we name it?

**Author's Note:**

> hello, deobi nation, i am here to feed all sunhak enthusiasts in the year 2020 pls don't expect this of me ever again now that they're out of my system lmao
> 
> some content warnings: drinking, smoking, being in love, and fluff
> 
> thank you so much to [galaxhyun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxhyun)  
> for beta reading this for me <3
> 
> enjoy! stay safe! leave comments if you so wish! thank you for reading <3

Between the two of them, it was always an easy kind of understanding—the furtive glances, the soft, lingering touches like butterfly wings, the subtle words of encouragement.

But, there was that _something_ missing, an unhinged kind of emptiness that jumped like live wire whenever Haknyeon looked at him; an open link, a discordant chord played on a guitar that was just tuned.

They’ve both had, and still have, so much energy, probably enough to power a small factory. So Haknyeon finds it funny, if not a little ironic, that they ultimately find the outlet for it in each other.

It all starts with one too many soju bottles, and one very drunk Sunwoo going for a smoke on the fire escape that can only be reached through the window in Haknyeon and Jaehyun’s room. 

Because having your teammate fall through the window has far fewer consequences than having him start the fire alarm on the one night that the manager was out.

“Go with him,” Sangyeon says, both of them looking at Sunwoo, who keeps dodging the fucking light switch to Haknyeon’s room, his hand occasionally making contact with the wall but most of the time missing it completely. 

Haknyeon nods at Sangyeon while taking one last sip of beer, never taking his eyes off Sunwoo, and stands up, placing his half-empty bottle on the low table between them. 

“ _Hyuuuuung_ ,” Sunwoo cries when he sees Haknyeon coming to his rescue, grabbing a handful of his plaid shirt when his balance fails him and he starts teetering too far to the right. 

“Where are you headed?” Haknyeon asks, biting off a chuckle that threatens to escape his throat, “This isn’t your room.”

Sunwoo shakes the pack of cigarettes instead of answering and turns his back to him to open the window. Haknyeon tsks at him in annoyance. 

Sure, everyone has ways to deal with stress, but drinking _and_ smoking? “That shit’s gonna kill you.”

“And yet here you are, helping me not to kill myself sooner,” Sunwoo remarks as Haknyeon lowers himself through the window that Sunwoo had opened and helps Sunwoo pass it without hurting himself.

“If death by defenestration is your preferred way to go,” Haknyeon jokes, lowering into a crouch and hugging his knees to his chest. 

This way he can see how half Sunwoo’s face is plunged into darkness with the other half lit up by the light coming from his room; the dance of shadow and light making his Adam’s apple look even more pronounced, his jaw as sharp as a razor blade.

Haknyeon tries to make the thought of hungry kisses, bitten tongues and bloody mouths leave his mind but it stays wedged somewhere between his throat and teeth.

“You probably won’t die if you don’t make a habit of it,” Haknyeon says, referring to Sunwoo’s unsteady hands trying to light up one end of the cigarette. “Right?”

“Probably not,” Sunwoo shrugs drunkenly, leaning on the wall next to the open window. “Does it even matter?” 

Haknyeon doesn’t like the way Sunwoo is looking at him, the bars of the fire escape suddenly feel more like part of an aviary, and Hanyeon is effectively caged in.

“Yes, I would like you not dead before you reach 40,” Haknyeon scoffs, looking anywhere but at Sunwoo’s graceful, long fingers turning the spark wheel over, and over, and over again, each time with no success.

“I’m not gonna die,” Sunwoo slurs, cocking his head to the side like a puppy, gesticulating aimlessly with his hands.

“No, you’re not,” Haknyeon laughs and breathes in the cold night air, a sudden gust of sharp early autumn wind making them both shiver.

As they both situate into their bones in the cold outside air, and Haknyeon watches Sunwoo click the zip lighter without anything happening, hears him swear for the umpteenth time, an idea develops in his mind, unbidden.

“Hey,” he calls Sunwoo from his perch on the ground, “give it to me,” reaching with his hand for the lighter, the other securely wrapped around his knees, though it does nothing to quell the cold.

There’s something in Sunwoo’s eyes, something that has nothing to do with the emotions pooling in the pit of Haknyeon’s stomach as Sunwoo brings his eyes down, the unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth in all likeness of a 50s black-and-white film star, his very own James Dean. 

“The lighter or?” Sunwoo smirks, but then a smile breaks out on his lips and Haknyeon is as good as dead. Oh, to be the only subject of his affectionate looks and smiles for the rest of his life.

They sit on a dangerous precipice, their legs kicking in the air, but neither are looking down; the ground is as far away from them as the possibility of the fall. Instead, they are looking at each other, leaning in.

The idea beckons to Haknyeon once again and, for the first time in forever, Haknyeon is led to think with his fickle heart, he lets the emotions override everything his common sense is telling him is wrong.

He stands up and takes the cigarette from Sunwoo’s lips, breathes in as he lights it up, coughing while returning it.

They’re standing on opposite sides of the little balcony, the cigarette a peace offering when in reality they’re both waiting for the first one who will draw the gun; the first one who will shed blood.

“Yes,” Haknyeon says. Sunwoo’s answering smirk and the way his eyes flash with what can only be lust show that they both know he’s answering a completely different question, the one that was never even asked out loud, and yet it still hangs heavy and clinging in the air around them.

Haknyeon watches Sunwoo exhale the smoke slow and long, the burning end of the cigarette like their very own fallen star. He keeps only looking even when Sunwoo places one of his hands on Haknyeon’s shoulder, lets the fingers dance their way to his neck; lets Sunwoo engulf his whole being with a mere touch.

They’re standing far too close for two people who are supposed to be nothing more than teammates, nothing less than family.

He’s not sure which one of them caves first, but the touch of Sunwoo’s tongue to his own makes him remember that maybe, _just maybe_ , what he’s feeling isn’t as platonic as he first thought. He takes that thought and pushes it so far back into his mind that the only thing it will do when it claws its way back up is hurt like nothing he’s ever felt before.

A shiver passes down his spine when Sunwoo closes the distance between their bodies, pulling Haknyeon flush against him with an arm around his waist, Haknyeon’s world encompassed into a body smelling of alcohol and cheap cigarettes.

“I want—” but Sunwoo doesn’t have the time to finish his thought before they hear someone barging into Haknyeon’s room. They spring apart and Sunwoo takes one last drag before flicking the bud onto the street below, looking disinterestedly at the back alley when Chanhee’s head pops out of the window frame.

“What are you guys doing?” he asks, voice shrill and filled with some disconnected mirth Haknyeon currently feels so very, very far away from. “Haknyeonnie you look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he bites out, looking at Sunwoo not looking at him, “just cold.”

“Well then, come back inside, sillies!” 

Sunwoo encircles his wrist bone just once in a ‘ _this happened, it’s not only a figment of your imagination_ ’, and enters through the window, propelling both himself and Chanhee on the floor between the two beds. Their laughter muffled, covered with a thick layer of snow rapidly melting.

Haknyeon peers into the sky, the stars shining down on him suddenly constricting and painful. There are so many of them, and yet so little of him, and isn’t that a crime? Won’t he regret this?

This is a good idea, he thinks and goes where Sunwoo went.

_find love —may it be as permanent as the blinking lights, and as comforting as the dull roar of space. _

Things don’t quite escalate after that first kiss.

It’s more like that frog in water allegory; the temperature starts rising and Haknyeon is in too deep even before it reaches boiling point.

But first, they try with something small, something they can get away with. 

Sunwoo starts crawling into Haknyeon’s bed at odd hours of the night, not expecting anything more than to be held and maybe receive forehead kisses if Haknyeon is in a touchy-feely mood.

Jaehyun catches on first, through the sheer fact that they share a room, and even if Sunwoo comes in late, he’s always the last one to wake up.

“So what’s up with you and Sunwoo?” Jaehyun asks from his bed, an eye mask firmly in place, his breathing so deep and rhythmical, Haknyeon had thought he was asleep for at least the past 20 minutes.

“What? What’s wrong with Sunwoo?” Haknyeon frowns, eyes fixed on his Twitter feed, _not_ looking at all the new selfies Sunwoo had posted. He just posts so many, though, you can’t escape them.

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with him,” Jaehyun answers, raising the eye mask so that his hair goes every which way, squinting at Haknyeon. “I’m asking how come he’s so cuddly with you again?”

“I didn’t realize we weren’t cuddly before,” Hakyneon says, matter-of-fact. Deflection is one way to defeat your enemies, after all.

“Haknyeon, I know you’re not dumb, I just want to help,” Jaehyun says and Haknyeon believes him, he’s just not sure what he needs help with, so he asks as much aloud.

“See,” he turns on his side and, hearing him so serious, Haknyeon locks his phone and turns to look at him, “when Juyeon and I—”

“This isn’t like that!” Haknyeon immediately interrupts him, his deep voice suddenly a few octaves higher in his hurry to defend whatever Sunwoo and he have. “We’re not—not like you and Juyeon hyung.”

Jaehyun looks at him with uncertainty, as if he’s not sure if he should proceed with whatever he was about to say. “Just know you can talk to me about anything, okay?” is what he settles on.

Haknyeon nods vigorously in confirmation, glad to be done with the conversation. “Good night hyung,” he says plugging his phone in the charger and turning off the night lamp.

“Night,” he hears Jaehyun answer softly, rustling from his bed.

Next, Haknyeon catches him in empty practice rooms, enters them so they’re not empty anymore—and there’s a metaphor somewhere in there, but Haknyeon’s hands are full, his mind blank. He can’t think. 

( _He doesn’t want to._ )

The persisting buzz in his head stays there even when they’re both panting from deep kisses, his heart beating a tattoo against his ribcage.

He’s not Sunwoo, he doesn’t see anything poetic in this; just bodily functions. 

_Hormones_ , he tells himself. _Stress_ , he presses into Sunwoo’s skin.

“This is unfair,” Sunwoo mumbles into his neck while they’re winding down, leaning back against the mirror; Haknyeon petting his hair, making it more presentable. 

They could probably explain the flush and hard breathing by saying they were practicing, but there’s no hiding swollen lips or Sunwoo’s head in the crook of his neck.

“What is?”

“That we can’t do more,” ever bold and self-assured Sunwoo, now looks uncharacteristically shy. 

Haknyeon is once again betrayed by his own body, his mouth letting out a gasp before he can stop it. “You… ah—” he looks away. There’s an entire galaxy in Sunwoo’s eyes at any given time, but if he looks now, he’s scared he might find the whole universe hidden behind his corneas.

“Maybe…” Sunwoo whispers, unsure. Tightens his arm around Haknyeon’s waist, making the nonexistent space between them even smaller. “When the others go to sleep…” he whispers shyly. 

Haknyeon looks at him, and it’s not the universe he finds, but adoration and love. He thinks it might just be the same thing.

“Okay,” he whispers back like they’re twelve-year-old kids sharing the names of their crushes in hushed whispers over middle school lunch. Except Haknyeon leans over, capturing Sunwoo’s lips with his own, relishing their plushness and the soft, sweet taste of strawberry chapstick.

“I’ll text you,” Sunwoo says against his lips, chasing Haknyeon for one more. Haknyeon nods while disconnecting the four-legged monster their bodies made together. 

Stretch your legs out, stand up, walk. 

There’s a sudden realization then that Haknyeon doesn’t want to leave. Not now, not ever. Not any time soon.

He feels a twinge of regret in his heart for not having listened to what Jaehyun had to say, but it passes lightning fast. They’re just doing this to deal with stress, but he’s no longer sure if it’s his head or heart thinking for him. 

“Okay,” he says, with one last lingering look sent in Sunwoo’s direction, his hair still slightly mused up, shirt disheveled, smiling that Sunwoo smile—sun, and warmth, and cozy winter nights spent next to the fire all packed to give the ultimate punch to the gut. 

Belatedly, he realizes that this might have been the breaking point. He gave himself away the second he said he wanted more and now there’s no stopping them. It. The feelings.

Haknyeon would like to say that the message comes when he least expects it, that it’s some crazy, monumental thing, but the reality is that a message never arrives.

Instead, Sunwoo whispers a time when Eric leaves the kitchen to pick up the leftover dishes that Haknyeon is washing and Sunwoo drying right next to him; it’s the _maknaes_ turn to clean the dinner table.

“What are you two plotting?” Eric interjects, and they spring even further apart—Sunwoo runs to the other end of the room to place the dried bowls in their respective cupboards. 

“We weren’t even talking,” Sunwoo says, brandishing a knife from the pile of wet cutlery in Eric’s direction.

“You don’t even have to these days, do you?” Eric pokes his tongue out at them, depositing the rest of the dirty dishes and taking a wet rag from the sink, sidestepping Haknyeon.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sunwoo asks, the knife in his hands making him look like a murderous puppy, though most of the time he’s all bark and no bite.

Eric just shakes his head instead of answering, walking backward into the dining room to finish cleaning the table.

Haknyeon looks at Sunwoo from the corner of his eye, affecting indifference, but Sunwoo is already looking at him with a little smile on his face. 

“What do you say about tonight?” Sunwoo asks in a whisper. Even though everyone was left to their own devices after dinner, there’s still a chance of being overheard so he lowers his voice.

They’re standing in an echo-less well, the curved walls behind both of their backs, cold water rising swiftly.

Haknyeon turns around, his hips against the kitchen counter, and looks calculatingly at Sunwoo, then at the doorway. “I’ll leave my door open.”

Meaning, he’ll see Sunwoo when he passes on his way to the bathroom and follow him there. No written evidence needed.

Like this, they take moments to themselves whenever they manage to find them. They squeeze themselves into tiny pockets of infinity, charged with a stormy power that holds them together before they are released from it.

Whenever Sunwoo calls, Haknyeon answers.

In empty bedrooms and bathrooms, training rooms and studios—they exchange filthy kisses like blows, bruising and hurting. 

Not once do they stop to ask if it’s supposed to hurt this much after they break apart.

_the trees in wind, the streetlights on, the click and flash of cigarettes being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight._

Months pass, seasons change and now here they are; here he is, looking for another kiss, another touch, another fix. 

Is this what Sunwoo feels every time he has to go outside because he’s craving a cigarette? Can the way smoke fills up his lungs compare to the way his hands feel on Haknyeon’s skin? 

His touch is so careful and yet it turns Haknyeon into the most selfish person. “Don’t stop,” he whispers as Sunwoo’s hand makes its way under his sleep shirt and over the feverishly hot skin of his back.

“I wasn’t going to,” Sunwoo mumbles, his full lips pressed to Haknyeon’s cheek as he rids them both of their matching checkered pajama pants. 

“I wanna make you feel good,” he whispers as he makes eye contact with Haknyeon and lowers himself to the floor in one fluid motion.

When he called Sunwoo into his room, he wasn’t expecting this. Most of the time, they’re happy if they’re able to get away with 20 minutes in the shower together, for messy deep kisses and sloppy handjobs.

The nights like these are, however, a rarity they’re going to use to the fullest.

Their company usually gives them a few days to recharge before all the holiday schedules and this year Haknyeon had stayed back, concluding two days was just a touch too short for him to go back to Jeju island. 

A bit too much hassle; a bit too short for it to be anything but a cruel tease and not a cure for homesickness.

“Yes,” Haknyeon says, voice breaking on a moan as Sunwoo kisses to the right of where he wants to be touched, bites the skin softly as Haknyeon treads his fingers through Sunwoo’s black hair. 

They can be careful, soft with each other, though most of the time Sunwoo is anything but; both of them enthusiastic, if not a tad bit too selfish. 

Sunwoo mouths at the front of Haknyeon’s boxers, effectively getting him even harder, and Haknyeon groans in frustration.

“Relationships should be fifty-fifty,” Haknyeon says. “You suck my dick, I knock you out cold because you’re a fucking tease,” he grabs a fistful of Sunwoo’s hair and pulls his head back, his pretty neck on display. 

Sunwoo snorts and dares to smile a warm, sunshine-filled smile from his vulnerable position, and Haknyeon’s heart melts. “Get on with it,” he says.

“Shut up,” Sunwoo replies but he does, ultimately, get on with it. 

Sunwoo gets on with it quite so well that at the first touch of Sunwoo’s lips to his dick, his eyes roll back into his skull and he’s glad he’s backed against the door while they’re doing this.

“Are your knees okay?” Haknyeon suddenly remembers they haven’t put anything for Sunwoo to kneel on but Sunwoo just hums around the dick stuffed into his mouth, though Haknyeon knows he’s going to complain and pout later.

The sole image of Sunwoo kneeling before him almost has the power to bring him down to his own knees, and if it weren’t for one of Sunwoo’s hands holding him pinned to the wall by the waist (the other uselessly groping his ass), he would’ve been down a long time ago.

Haknyeon wouldn’t call Sunwoo an unattentive lover but he tends to oversee things when he’s so deep into an act, so enthusiastic in his dick sucking that he fails to hear Haknyeon tell him he’s going to come. “...right this second.”

“Fuck,” he finishes into Sunwoo’s mouth, most of the come now down Sunwoo’s throat and some of it painting his lips and cheek while he fights the urge to vomit it back up. 

“Jesus, _fuck_. I’m sorry,” Haknyeon apologizes, lowering himself next to Sunwoo, placing one hand on his cheek while the other rubs soothing circles into his back.

After he makes sure Sunwoo is okay, and because he can’t help himself, he wipes the come off Sunwoo’s cheek and stuffs the soiled thumb back into Sunwoo’s mouth. 

Sunwoo looks at him with disappointment written across his eyes, chest heaving with constricting breaths, but his body no longer trying to force half his lunch up his throat. Still, he indulges Haknyeon and opens his mouth a little, so that Haknyeon can see the way his finger is pressed into the plush pink of Sunwoo’s lip and tongue before closing it around the digit and sucking it clean.

He gulps once and says, his eyes at half-mast, “Relationships… I suck your dick, you come down my throat?” 

Haknyeon pouts and bursts into laughter. “I’m sorry, let’s move,” he says, feeling a dumb, loving smile pull at his cheeks.

“Okay,” Sunwoo says standing up with a huff, his hands on his knees. “My fucking knees are killing me.”

“Did I not ask if you were okay?” Haknyeon admonishes.

Sunwoo pouts. “I wasn’t really all there then,” he says, pulling his sweatshirt over his head only to get it stuck and tangled in his arms. Haknyeon helps him get it off fully, his hair turning even fluffier with static. 

He presses a chaste kiss to Sunwoo’s naked shoulder, one hand on the small of his back, the other on his neck, directing him to kneel on the bed. He goes down headfirst, hugging Haknyeon’s pillow to his face. 

Haknyeon sits on the backs of his thighs, licking a stripe up the middle of his back. “What do you want?” 

“You,” Sunwoo says, plain and simple.

_i am reduced to a thing that wants virginia._

He likes it the best when the reality takes on a languid, dreamy quality. When they don’t have to pretend, when despite being in a small bedroom, a cramped bed with washed-out pastel yellow sheets, the world bows to them.

He’s painfully aware of everything—the way Sunwoo is trying to buck him off himself, the way the setting sun settles into the muscular dips and crevices of his back, turning his skin into molten gold rippling with motion.

“Move,” Sunwoo gasps between clenched teeth when he realizes that Haknyeon isn’t, in fact, moving any longer.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, pressing kisses onto Sunwoo’s shoulder, stretching out next to Sunwoo who, in turn, moves to lie on his side. 

Haknyeon would love to pretend they are not hurtling toward something neither of them will be able to fix once it breaks into a million pieces but, for now, he captures Sunwoo’s lips with his own, tastes himself on them, takes Sunwoo’s naked leg to pull it over his thigh, the action instinctual and clear like bottled water.

“Kiss me again,” Sunwoo murmurs against his skin when he detaches his lips and moves away from his body to grab the lube Sunwoo had left on his bedside table when he came into the room.

As they’re hurtling towards that… _something_ _unknown_ , Haknyeon doesn’t even have the time to stop and think—it’s all happening too fast but he wants it not to be wrong and an utterly horrible idea, and if only he manages to keep that in his head for the rest of this act, maybe the heart will follow too.

“ _Hyung_ ,” Sunwoo whines, and this time it’s like music to Haknyeon’s ears, “hurry up.” He’s already rid himself of all his clothes, shed the innocence and the shame even before Haknyeon had first touched him. 

He pushes one of Sunwoo’s legs towards his chest, the other stays in the crook of his arm as his lubed fingers prob and find purchase, pushing inside to hear Sunwoo gasp and moan. It sounds utterly sinful coming from his opened mouth.

Sunwoo makes a garbled sound and Hakyneon looks at him, only to see that he’s biting at the meaty part of his thumb, the other hand lost to the folds of the sheets, his eyes closed. 

“Good?” Haknyeon asks, suddenly unable to direct his thoughts into a sentence, his emotions muddling the rational core of who he is.

He opens his eyes and a thousand stars burst from within, the moon making a home in his parted mouth as Haknyeon pulls his hand with the intention to steal his breath away. He leans in to kiss him, wondering how much more would it take for Sunwoo to make him go insane or if, maybe, he already is.

The hand he just pulled from Sunwoo’s teeth ends up leaving spit on Haknyeon’s cheek before it buries itself in his hair, petting and pulling harshly whenever Haknyeon does something right with his hand.

And this isn’t the first time, so he pulls everything he has in his arsenal—biting Sunwoo’s earlobe, rolling the earring there into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue. 

He adds more lube when two fingers turn into three, when Sunwoo is left writhing on Haknyeons’s sheets, his dick bobbing against his abdomen.

“Hyung,” Sunwoo moans, pulling his hair harshly, “please touch me.”

“I am,” Haknyeon says, mouthing at the thin skin of his knee.

“Ple— _ase_ ,” Sunwoo whines, tears gathering in his eyes. Haknyeon brushes them away with his lips, kisses each one softly.

“Okay, okay,” he whispers, and marvels that anyone would let him see them in such a vulnerable position. That someone would willingly place their pleasure into Haknyeon’s hands, trust him wholeheartedly.

His fingers close around Sunwoo’s dick and it takes less than five minutes to bring him to completion. Sunwoo’s back arching like a bow then releasing, relaxing, and finally winding down into the sheets.

He lets out a few more of those whimpers, like a puppy. Haknyeon cuddles up to him and they fall asleep like two parentheses tucked tightly together.

Cold winter air rouses him from his sleep, colder still on his naked skin. 

Sunwoo sits in front of the open window, now clothed in the hoodie Haknyeon had discarded, half of his body outside with a cigarette blazing between his fingers, his breath misting in the night air.

“Hey,” Haknyeon croaks out, then tries again. “What time is it?”

Sunwoo looks at him, city lights reflected in his eyes, and there it is—the entire universe, the beginning, and the end. 

He reaches out with his left hand to Haknyeon, says: “Early still. Go to sleep hyung.”

Haknyeon brushes his fingertips to the delicate wrist bone, traces the veins there. “I haven’t seen you smoke in so long,” he remarks, twining their fingers together. “I almost thought you gave it up.”

“Nah, my hands were too occupied with something else,” Sunwoo says, laughs just a bit. 

“Yeah?” he squeezes Sunwoo’s hand once and lets go. “What could that be?”

“You,” Sunwoo says, and it sounds like a love confession.

And it is.

“I love you, Haknyeon. You don’t have to say it back but I want you to know. I _need_ you to know because it feels like I’m living a lie without telling you everything that’s in my heart and on my mind. You don’t have to say it back, just… one day at a time,” he shrugs like he didn’t just bare his soul to another being. Like saying I love you is easy.

“I… yeah,” one day at a time, each one a small pocket of infinity held in the hands of something bigger than either of them.

There is nothing to break, nothing to mend and stick together, this is what they were rushing towards and Haknyeon can breathe more freely now.

“Come back to bed,” Haknyeon whispers, watches him flick the cigarette bud away in a practiced move.

Sunwoo closes the window and takes his shirt off, reaching to card his hand through Haknyeon’s hair. Haknyeon takes it, holds it to his cheek, says I love you in his own way.

The stars he might not understand but what they have is easy, even if Haknyeon never says it out loud.

Even if they never name it.

_what did my fingers do before they held him? what did my heart do with its love?_

**Author's Note:**

> works referenced:  
> -welcome to night vale  
> -meanwhile by richard siken  
> -vita sackville west to virginia wolf (from the 50 greatest love letters of all time)  
> -three women by sylvia plath
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yoongsicle)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/immortalflowers)  
> 


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